A Spice to Life

He was different. Like nothing I'd ever experienced before. His beliefs were different from mine, his love for life was extraordinary, and his passion for his craft was bewildering. He had an eye for things that seemed to be broken and tarnished, finding the beauty within them. Maybe that's why I was so drawn to him, and him to I. Because I was broken, slowly picking up the delicate pieces of my life, trying to put them back together perfectly. But he... he showed that misfitting pieces could be just as beautiful, and that it made for a much more unique work of art. He was my cinnamon and I was his brown sugar. Was... Is... How to decide which tense to use when the miles apart burn like the heat I keeping inhaling into my dry lungs and the sweat of my crown weighs heavy on my head. Is... Was...

Just how did we become, or shall I say how we became?